Up is Down
by LoreleiZabini
Summary: AU. 1977. Voldermort reigns. James Potter is left to make some impossible decisions in order to ensure his survival, the survival of his family and all who depend upon him.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer; The universe and all characters are borrowed from J.K Rowling's Harry Potter series. The somewhat bizarre twists are all mine...

Up is Down

James Potter suffered the grave misfortune of being the first born heir to a great family in tumultuous times. This misfortune was something that he rarely dwelled upon, even as his family and tutors did their level best to instil a proper sense of the enormity of his duties upon him. It was not that the James was unaware of the burden's that would be placed upon his shoulders upon his graduation from Hogwarts. Rather he was fully aware of them from a very young age, and was thus all the more determined to devote his childhood to having as much fun as possible, to make up for what he was certain would be a very staid and dull adulthood. Going off to school, where Potters had been going to learn magic since Hogwarts conception, did not diminish James' natural liveliness, mischievousness or propensity to land head first into trouble.

Hogwarts did, however, broaden James' horizons beyond that of his parents. On his first day, in his first lesson, Professor Slughorn attempted to improve Gryffindor/ Slytherin house relations by randomly pairing the two houses together as potion partners. The dungeon went deathly quiet once the last names had been paired together. In a somewhat ironic twist that was noted by none in the classroom, Silius Yaxley and Sirius Black put aside their innumerable differences to lead the uproar that ensured. And through it all Narcissa Black and James Potter stared at each other across the room, neither blinking. The impasse broke with her slow, hesitant smile. At the age of eleven Cissa Black was still an impossibly tiny, cute blonde in pigtails who looked as though a stiff wind would knock her off her feet. James found her smile to be infectious and, discounting a lifetime of training and indoctrination that stated that all Slytherin's were irredeemably evil, unwillingly returned the smile. It was the start of a tentative partnership and, eventually, an enduring friendship. The uniqueness of the partnership could be illustrated by the fact that in a class of forty, there's was the only partnership that was not consistently at war with each other.

Sirius Black was easily James' best friend. They had met on the train, came up with a plan to prank an obnoxious slime ball who had been loudly commenting on how Hogwarts should not accept mudbloods, and sealed their friendship through covering said obnoxious twit with dungbombs. The boys in reality came from very similar backgrounds, but had parents who were worlds apart politically. The Blacks, like the Potter's, were a wealthy pureblood family that had two hereditary seats on the Wizengamot. However the similarities ended there. The Blacks were a family that were notorious for their study and use of the Dark Arts, whilst the Potter's were almost polar opposites abhorring all families who practiced the Dark Arts. The boys had been to many of the same parties and functions, but at all these parties the children were kept separate and apart along partisan grounds. Sirius became the first Black in four centuries to be sorted in any house but Slytherin or Ravenclaw, upon his being sorted into Gryffindor. The Great Hall was upon his sorting stunned into silence. The only sound was that of James Potter clapping. A great many Slytherin's responded by sending death glares in Sirius' direction. The Howler that Lady Black sent the next day to her heir should have made _Hogwarts a History_ as one of the most vitriol letters ever to be sent to a first year student on their first day. James, knowing that his parent's would have reacted in a very similar manner if he had been sorted into Slytherin, did not offer commiseration like most of their fellow Gryffindor's. Instead he tried the "they'll get over it eventually, provided you act in a manner befitting your position" approach. His words managed to calm Sirius down enough, that three days later he sent a very civil letter to his parents emphasising his friendship with James and describing his first couple of days at Hogwarts. His parents responded with a letter that could only be described as lukewarm, and the relationship which had been strained till breaking point gradually begun to repair itself. The howler and the Slytherin's reaction to his sorting left its mark on Sirius. Sirius became openly disdainful and prejudicial of Slytherin House and its inhabitants. It was not until the third year that he would resume his former friendship with his cousin Cissa Black, which was brutally severed upon their respective sorting's, despite her efforts to the contrary. Many of the friendships that he had fostered prior to Hogwarts with Slytherin classmates would never recover.

James made another friend, by the name of Peter Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew, whilst a pureblood, came from a distinctly working class family. It was he who taught James the reality of money and gold. James had grown up in a world where money was _there_ and everyone who he had ever been encouraged to associate with had plenty of it. Peter had grown up in a rough neighbourhood, with parents that had saved and scrimped every knut and sickle to send him to Hogwarts. Even then the only way he was able to afford to attend was with the help of a partial scholarship from a charitable trust. Peter's decades old books, frayed robes and second hand wand made it impossible for him to cover up his straightened circumstances and to his credit he did not even attempt to do so. But his very presence at Hogwarts made James uncomfortably aware of all the servants and shopkeepers children who he had dismissed and automatically assumed would not be going off to school with him. Having Peter as a friend made James question whether it was fair for one's birth to determine one's education and thus one's social status. And then finally there was the friend, which neither James nor his best friend Sirius, knew what to make of. Remus Lupin, to paraphrase a famous cliché, was a riddle rapped inside a mystery hidden inside an enigma. He disappeared at frequent intervals, appeared to be constantly sickly and had a dazzling array of chronically sick relatives. But when he was at school James was attracted to Remus' quiet intelligence and pushed Peter and Sirius to include them in their group.

James was further exposed to a world beyond the sheltered confines of his childhood by the eccentricities of Hogwarts staff. Albus Dumbledore, who Cissa wryly referred to as the self-proclaimed greatest wizard of the age, very publicly displayed his eccentric nature through his garish robes and habit of offering anybody who happened to be in his office sweets. James, admittedly with plenty of help from Cissa and Sirius, saw through Dumbledore's convenient mask to the master tactician that lay beneath after their second meeting. And there were many meetings. James and Sirius, after being dragged up to the headmaster's office for the third time in their first term for a relatively minor indiscretion were well aware that the headmaster was using the meeting's to get a read on their characters. Through casual inquires to upper year students James knew that the only time student's usually got called to the headmaster's office were for disciplinary actions sufficient to warrant suspension or expulsion. All other disciplinary matters were handled by staff members or the heads of houses. However both managed to display the right amount of naivety and rudimentary occlumency to avoid Dumbledore detecting that the boys knew why he called them into his office. James' interactions with Dumbledore were an excellent introduction to the world of politics as played out on the Wizengamot. The other teachers were no less fascinating. Hagrid, the groundskeeper, was to put it politely big-boned. Those who were less polite loudly speculated about the possibility of giant's blood being in his heritage. Hagrid's alcoholism and mad affinity for extremely dangerous creatures meant that James fell quite firmly into the latter camp, as indeed did the vast majority of student's. Filch the extraordinarily bitter caretaker, was in James' considered opinion; redundant because of the house-elves and a menace because of the constant muttering about whips and chains. The divination teacher, Sabrina Streep, was completely batty and could be commonly sighted wandering about the castle at night moaning about the gloomy signs. The ghostly Professor Bins did nobody any favours by 'teaching' his farcically boring classes in such a manner that made even the grisly subject of the goblin wars coma inducing. Professor Slughorn was a sycophant of the worst sort who was determined to like James, however little James might return the compliment. James in desperation brought fireworks into his potions lesson during the third week of his second term of his first year. The resulting explosion destroyed the potions lab, and turned the entire class a peculiar shade of puce for three days. Slughorn promptly gave James detention for "keeping fireworks in his pocket and accidently setting them off during class". As the detention turned out to be a meeting of the Slug Club and neither Cissa nor Sirius spoke to James for a full two weeks after the explosion, it was not an episode that was repeated. However the prize amongst Hogwarts staff for ineptitude was easily won by James' many and varied Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor's. Stammering and stuttering, having no practical knowledge of the subject and being over the age of three hundred appeared to be prerequisites for the position. As the leader of the Death Eaters, Voldermort, seemed to make it a personal mission to kill all that held the position none lasted longer than a year. It made filling the position at all a challenge, let alone finding a suitably qualified candidate. Then there was the quartet of sanity that managed for the most part to ensure the smooth running of the school. Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Ponoma Sprout and Poppy Pomfrey ran their various departments with iron fists. Without them Hogwarts would cease to function. James watched and observed the astonishing array of characters that made up the staff at Hogwarts. As he did, his horizons ever so slowly started to widen...

In the summer between James Potter's third and fourth years at Hogwarts the world in which he lived in suddenly, and from his viewpoint, without warning was rocked to its very foundations. At the personal level James' parents went out to a dinner party. They never returned. Their deaths left James responsible for the transnational, multi-billion galleon hedge fund that was his inheritance, the five hereditary Potter votes on the Wizengamot and one hereditary vote on the International Confederation of Wizards, his two younger sisters and the twenty thousand wizarding souls who considered him to be their liege lord.

The wider world was undergoing a no less important transformation. On June 3rd, the Wizarding World lost a hero, when Albus Dumbledore was discovered slumped over his desk, dead. The history books were left to speculate, and quarrel, and argue some more over the cause of his death for the next millennia. Few believed the Ministry of Magic's official explanation that it was a consequence of Dumbledore's advanced age. Those who were aware of the carefully concocted plan, that involved imperioing Honeydukes owner and forcing him to poison Dumbledore's order of lemon drops, infinitely preferred the undignified explanation of old age and consequentially rarely spoke of the truth.

The coup d'état at the Ministry of Magic was swift, and for the most part largely silent. The Minister of Magic, Leo Bagshot, had met an untimely end on 26 June. The vote to replace him was due to take place on Wednesday 4th July, but given the turmoil caused by Dumbledore's death, was delayed till the Friday. Death Eater's had infiltrated every level of the ministry. The untimely deaths of the Potters with their tremendous influence over the Wizengamot, combined with the death of Dumbledore meant that the coalition that made up the light disintegrated. A brilliant young politician, marked by Lord Voldermort, by the name of Rodolphus Lestrange was voted by a clear margin of two-thirds of the available votes to be Bagshot's successor as the Minister of Magic. Emergency provisions, installed several Minister's of Magic ago, meant that the government controlled the content that the media was permitted to report. This had seemed less open to abuse given the fact that the Potter's owned the highly regarded broadsheet; the Daily Prophet. But the editor, faced with a dead owner on his hands and a world in turmoil, gave in to the ministries ceaseless commands and printed only 'approved' stories. Thus it was; the media became an apparatus of the State and the State became an apparatus to push Voldermort's agenda. The new ministry used its first month as a consolidation period. Given the huge influence that British Purebloods had on the International Confederation of Wizards and with their fellow European purebloods it was relatively easy to shut down all magical means of transportation out of the country. As Britain remained the centre of finance and the economic powerhouse of the Wizarding World very few countries agreed to accept British refugees. The only two countries to do so, Australia and Canada, had been founded by muggleborns fleeing persecution from Europe. Both countries wizarding economies neared collapse as a result of their brave decision, as Britain launched a total trade embargo and stated that it would not trade with any country that dared to trade with Australia or Canada. The heads of department's who were not loyal to Voldermort, with a few notable exceptions, were either strongly 'advised' to step aside or 'tragically' died accidental deaths. Many previously neutral senior bureaucrats recognised which way the wind was blowing and joined his forces. The only exceptions were the senior officials belonging to the House of Potter. They were for the large part left severely alone. Ministry workers who were not openly sympathetic or loyal to Voldermort's cause were marginalised and if they were sufficiently 'impure' or impudent enough were thrown into Azkaban.

And thus James was brutally initiated to the civil war raging around him. At the age of fourteen it felt as though the whole world had been dumped upon his none too sturdy shoulders. When the news of his parent's deaths reached the Potter Estate, located just outside Cardiff, the millennia old wards were automatically raised to full strength. In the following years James would look back on the first couple of days following his parent's deaths and only remember a foggy haze. He could remember the almost constant presence of his Security detail, their anxious faces and constant drawing of wands when a small noise happened to break the oppressive silence of the Manor. He could remember the weeping of the servants and the sombreness of the village of Wyndam located within the Manor's rather extensive grounds. He could remember his Aunt Katherine, his father's sister, sending her regrets from her Château in France saying that Britain in its current state was not safe for her to visit. He could remember his father's Chief solicitor and legal counsel giving him pages after pages of documents to sign dealing with the transference of property into his name. He could remember the constant flood of refugees flooding into Wyndam, desperately seeking shelter behind the Manor's infamous wards. He could remember thinking that his House was in turmoil. He could remember watching people who, at his directive, continued to show up to work move their families onto the estate. He could remember thinking that it seemed as though the House of Potter was preparing for a siege. But most of all he could remember how numb he felt. How the world felt as though it was being played on a tape cassette, constantly moving forward. How it felt like he was no longer on the tape cassette, and whilst the world around him kept spinning, he was left to stand alone and motionless. But most of all when James thought of those times what he inevitably remembered was the numb loneliness and isolation that he felt.

This state of perpetual numbness was broken on the third day after the Potter's deaths. It was the day that Sirius and Cissa Black managed to talk the Head of Security, Dorcas Meadows, into allowing them to visit James on the condition that they submitted to a magical strip search, permitted the use of veritaserum to confirm their identities and surrendered all magical items for the duration of the visit. Their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud as they made their way through the eerily quiet and still Manor. When they were eventually brought to James, he was sitting in a bay window in the library, staring out the window. The footman cleared his throat impressively, causing James to start and turn around, and intoned "Lord Sirius Black and Miss Narcissa Black to see you milord". Then the three friends were left alone in the vast space to stare at each other in a grief-consumed awkward silence. After a minute or so of silence James managed to give a twisted version of a smile, which crumbled like a fault line. Sirius responded by sinking to the ground with a muffled sob, whilst Cissa crossed the room and pulled James into a tight hug. That hug smashed the walls that James had built around him in the preceding days and led to him howling in her embrace.

An hour later the three friends sat in a semi-circle, somewhat recollected, leaning against each other for support. The outpouring of grief had left them feeling cleansed but drained. James, for the first time in days, sat up and called for his personal house-elf Twiggy.

Twiggy, dressed like all the Potter house-elves in a tea-cosy of mourning black, arrived in milliseconds. "Master James called?" the familiarly squeaky voice of the elf queried.

James smiled a genuine smile at the elf. "I think some tea might be in order."

Cissa sat up, waved her wand and muttered grooming spells over all three of them. Their robes returned from their crumpled, ruffled state into immaculately ironed pieces of clothing. The tears on all three faces were automatically dried and their faces were washed.

Moments later Twiggy popped back into the library with a tray laden with teapots and tea, smoked salmon sandwiches and Honeydukes premium chocolate biscuits.

The tea made them all feel more human again. However the silence became more and more oppressive as all three friends waited for the others to initiate the conversation that they all dreaded. They all knew that they needed to discuss what was happening in the wider world, but none wanted to be the ones to raise the topic. Sirius and Cissa were exchanging significant nods and lifting their heads at each other, each indicating that they should initiate the conversation. James looked at the two of them with a wry sigh of amusement and dryly suggested "perhaps I should try and pre-empt what you're going to say..."

Two embarrassed cringes were thrown back at him. Sirius with his dark colouring got away with an embarrassed smile, but Cissa had the misfortune of being born a blonde and flushed a somewhat enchanting crimson.

James sighed "You've come to tell me what's been happening in the wider world whilst I've been...preoccupied with my own personal crisis. You're trying to formulate a way to let me know gently that You-Know-Who has won. That the British Wizarding World is in turmoil. That in the next couple of days I must make a choice. Do I retreat behind these wards of mine and declare Wales' independent from the rest of Britain? Do I declare war on behalf of my House on You-Know-Who and demand retribution for my parent's deaths? Or do I attempt to find some way to broker a deal with my parent's murderers... Not that they have the slightest interest in brokering a deal with me. They have this House on its knees and they know it. And if I was to take that option how many people do I knowingly condemn to death? How much blood would I have on my hands? There is no..."

He was interrupted mid-sentence by an imperious tap on the library window. James looked over and seeing a regal eagle owl went to relieve it of its message. The owl once the message was given inclined its head and flew right back out the window. James looked at the letter in confusion, wondering how it was able to bypass the mail wards set up. He looked at the envelope. The letter was addressed to Lord James Potter and stamped with the personal seal of the Minister of Magic. Knowing that the mail wards would filter out any mail containing harmful magical properties he slowly opened the letter.

_Lord James Potter,_

_Attached you will find emancipation documents, already approved by a majority of the Wizengamot and myself. All that they require to become legally binding is your signature. I wish to extend my sincere regrets to you over the unfortunate deaths of your parents. Nevertheless sometimes phoenix's can rise out of ashes, as I hope the House of Potter will do. I look forward to working with you on the Wizengamot and International Confederacy of Wizards. Arrangements can be made so that you can run your business interests and attend sittings of the Wizengamot, whilst continuing to attend Hogwarts. Please respond with the signed documents attached. I also wish to arrange a time to meet with you, so that I might better get to know one of the biggest vote holders in the Wizengamot. Please reply with a convenient time and place._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Rodolphus Lestrange_

_Minister of Magic_

The stunned silence that followed James' reading of the letter was broken by his dry comment "Well that settles it. The world's gone mad. It's been turned upside down. No actually it would be more apt to say Up is Down."

A/N I'm currently on the hunt for a Beta...any volunteers? In case you couldn't tell I have trouble with grammar (especially adding too many commas) and the use of tenses...so if that's your forte and you like where this story is going please contact me. Thanks for indulging me by reading down this far!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer; The universe and all characters are borrowed from J.K Rowling's Harry Potter series. The somewhat bizarre twists are all mine...

Up is Down

Chapter 2

The contemplative silence that was currently consuming the library of Potter Manor was unusual, given the three teenagers that were currently using it. What was even more unusual was the letter that had managed to stun the three teenagers into speechlessness.

Rodolphus Lestrange, the current Minister of Magic and an inner circle Death Eater had unmistakeably sent a letter offering a truce to the new Head of the Potter House.

Lord James Potter, so certain just moments before the letter had arrived that a truce was impossible and that to fight was his only viable option, had been placed in a dreadful quandary. Whatever decision he made there would be dreadful consequences. James knew that with the collapse of the Ministry and Dumbledore's death resistance to You-Know-Who on mainland England and Scotland had become futile.

But he also knew that Wyndam's wards, which were strongest around the Manor but which extended to the border of Wales, were formidable. The wards, according to legend, had been constructed by Morgan le Fray and her apprentice Myrddin Emrys for the ruling family of Wales in return for amnesty, patronage and protection.

Whatever the truth of the legend, there was no disputing just how formidable the wards were. The closest the wards had ever come to breaking was when the full might of the Roman Empire's crack curse breaking battalion was brought to bear on the wards for a full two centuries. Two hundred and five years and ten thousand wizarding lives later, the Romans gave up trying to tear down Wyndam's wards. Subsequent invading armies tended to learn from the Roman's mistakes and opted to negotiate with the House of Potter rather than futilely attempt to conquer it. It seemed that You-Know-Who was determined to follow suit.

The Wyndam wards were infamous for being astonishingly versatile, with one notable exception. Only direct descendants of the Potter's were able to control the wards. Many noted curse breakers and ward masters had worried over the centuries that if the Potter line were to die out completely, than Wales in its entirety would disappear. It was not an incident entirely without precedent; both Avalon and Atlantis had disappeared forever when the ruling families were eliminated. But the same curse breakers and ward masters would inevitably follow their criticisms of the wards with effusive praise, which bordered on reverence. The wards, when raised to full strength, were capable of killing any wizard with malevolent intentions towards the House of Potter if they attempted to cross the Welsh border. The wards were also capable of preventing any members of the House from attempting to harm the Head of House by preventing them entry into either the Manor or the village of Wyndam. The wards were widely considered to be the strongest public wards in Great Britain, eclipsing the wards that protected both the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts.

But the strength of the wards did not make the choices that James was faced with making any less complicated. If he closed Wales' borders and all but declared war on You-Know-Who and his army of Death Eater's he would be risking almost certain death for not only himself, but his sister's and his twenty thousand odd dependants. If he closed Wales' borders and pursued an isolationist policy he faced condemning himself and all his dependents to a life entirely contained in Wales. But if he made a deal with his own reincarnation of the Devil, he would become complicit in the torture and deaths of all that were brave enough to oppose You-Know-Who's regime, including his parents.

It was little wonder that the teenagers standing in the library maintained a grim silence. A few short weeks ago, from the security of Hogwarts, the war had seemed distant problem. But now the three fourteen year olds were being forced by circumstances outside their control to grow up and grow up quickly.

"You know that speech Dumbledore gave at the end of term, just before we all went on holidays? How he kept going on and on about how in our lifetime we would all be faced with choices. And that those choices will be what defines us? About how we will frequently have to make choices between what is right and what is easy?" James asked the room in general.

"Well he didn't mention the choices and decisions that we'd have to make where there are no right choices, only wrong ones" Sirius replied, with a bitter chuckle.

Cissa's melodic voice broke into the discussion for the first time. "I think we all need to face reality here. No matter what you do, you're damned. I was trying to insert a bit of normalcy into my holidays, the Prophet had run that article announcing Dumbledore's death and it all seemed so surreal, so I sat down and actually tried to do Binns' homework properly. You know how we were doing Dumbledore's defeat of Grindelwald? I read this quote by a German wizard, talking about why nobody tried to stop him earlier. It went like this;

_They came first for the Communists,_

_And I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Communist._

_Then they came for the Jews,_

_And I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Jew._

_Then they came for the trade unionists,_

_And I didn't speak up because I wasn't a trade unionist._

_Then they came for the Squibs,_

_And I didn't speak up because I wasn't a squib._

_Then they came for the muggleborns,_

_And I didn't speak up because I wasn't a muggleborn._

_Then they came for the Catholics,_

_And I didn't speak up because I wasn't a Catholic._

_Then they came for me,_

_And by that time there was nobody left to speak up._

We need to stop talking as though there are any right or easy choices. There is nobody left to fight Him but you and Longbottom. And you're fourteen years old and he's seventeen for god's sake. Do you think that your Houses are going to feel confident being led into a fight to the death by two boys? I would rather drink poison then become a murderer or a torturer or to join the Death Eater's. But I'm fourteen years old. And I do not want to die. I don't want either of you to die. And if we defy Him we are dead."

"But using the same logic you just used, ultimately we're all dead because the Dark Lord is a raging, egomaniacal, psychopath just like Grindelwald who will eventually kill us all. The only difference is whether we die now with honour having stuck to our principles, or whether we die ten years from now without honour. "Sirius objected.

"It's such a Gryffindor concept. Death with honour. It's something that I would probably subscribe to if I was ever forced to join the Death Eater's. But let's stop the melodrama here. It's not as though you're being faced with the choice of joining them. Instead you're being faced with decision of whether or not to commit yourself and, let's not forget in doing so, you're entire House to War against You-Know-Who. Be a kid. It's what you are. Take the deal. Buy yourself some time. Take the deal. Live to fight another day. Please James, for the love of God, take the deal" Cissa pleaded.

"God help me, but I'm tempted...so tempted. And these are the people that killed my parents, believe that all muggleborns should die and carelessly torture and murder to get their own way. God help us all..." James whispered.

"I need...I need to be alone now. Can you please go?" James abruptly requested.

The two gentle, lingering hugs he received in reply were his only answer. Nobody in the room was capable of saying anything more. They were all aware of the brutal truth; that this could very well be the last time that they saw each other.

When the library door closed, James resumed his post at one of the library windows. However, this time he wasn't looking out at nothing. Rather he was watching his two best friends begin the long walk back to Wyndam, where the only open floo connection on the entire estate was.

Half an hour later when he could no longer see Cissa, Sirius and their escort on the horizon James finally tore his gaze from the window.

He slowly walked across the vast expanse of the library to the ornate writing desk situated almost at the entry of the room. The desk was of elfin build and was undeniably ancient. It added gravitas to the already imposing room. The desk was empty save for an ornate gold inkwell, one phoenix feather quill and some thick parchment emblazoned with the Potter Crest. He heavily sank himself down into the oak and satin chair that came with the desk. Then he called for his personal house-elf.

"Twiggy...I need you to go and get Dorcas Meadows, Elizabeth Monroe, John Attenburgh, Amelia Bones and Sam Forbes. Tell them that I am holding a meeting in half an hour and if at all possible I would appreciate their attendance. "

Dorcas Meadows, the head of the Potter's security detail, was the first to arrive a mere ten minutes after James had dispatched Twiggy.

Amelia Bones, the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, followed soon after.

Sam Forbes, the chief family solicitor, arrived at the same time as Elizabeth Monroe, the Director of St Mungo's.

John Attenburgh, the mayor of Wyndam, was the last to arrive, a mere five minutes prior to when he was requested, apologising profusely.

The formidable group of adults assembled before James had all been major figures in his childhood. Now they stood in front of the elfin desk waiting to hear what their Lord had to say.

He did not disappoint. "I received a communiqué from Rodolphus Lestrange this morning. I thought I'd gauge your reactions to it before definitively determining my response."

Flagrantly disregarding the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery James waved his wand, made copies of the letter, and zoomed the letter's towards their intended recipients.

There was silence for a few moments, as those in receipt of the letter read and processed it.

"It's an invitation to treat, milord. They wish to make a deal" Elizabeth announced.

"I'm well aware of that. What I wanted from you was an opinion" James dryly replied.

He watched, morbidly amused, as some of the most forthright people on the planet squirmed and looked towards the ground to avoid answering the question.

It was Dorcas who took the plunge first. "If we reply with a screw you, we need to be prepared to retreat behind the wards and restrict our activities in the rest of Britain to guerrilla warfare. An all out War with the Death Eater's would lead to us being annihilated."

"I would have to concur with that statement. Most of the auror's seem fairly content to follow the new regime in charge of the Ministry" Minister Bones agreed.

"We'd need to give some warning to the last remaining personnel outside the wards too" Elizabeth interjected.

"We'd also have to be prepared to lose the vast majority of our assets spread throughout the rest of the UK. In terms of your own personal assets that could mean you loosing close to a billion galleons in assets, assuming that Gringott's does _not_ fall or negotiate away your deposits" Forbes threw in, covering the financial drawbacks of such a position.

"We'd also have to be prepared to build emergency housing, for such a move would almost certainly attract a huge number of refugees. I'm not sure whether the town in its present state, logistically would be able to cope" John added.

"Right...now we've been through that scenario. What would your reactions be if I attempted to make a deal?" James queried.

There was a stunned silence.

"Honestly, it would be pretty close to Hallelujah. As long as Wales maintains its autonomy, and our people aren't required to join the murdering scum that are the Death Eater's, striking a deal is probably our best option. The only thing is, that nobody within the House expected you to be thinking straight enough to even consider that as an option" Dorcas said.

As she spoke James watched as everyone in front of him started to nod in agreement.

"Well that's helpful. Were you all in the habit of giving dad the advice you that you thought he wanted to hear, rather than the advice that you thought he needed to hear? Because if you were that management style really doesn't work for me and you might as well hand in your resignations right now. I need to be hearing what you think and relying on your expertise, if I'm going to survive my first few years as the Head of the House. And sure; there will be times when I hear your advice and disregard it. But if I never hear what you think, than I'm essentially trying to formulate the positions that this House will follow in the dark!" came the reprimand.

It would have been an amusing scene for an onlooker. A fourteen year old was sitting behind a massive desk, whilst in front of him stood a cluster of thoroughly chastened adults.

"Sam, Amelia I'll need your help to formalise the language for this letter. As for the rest of you I think I've taken enough time out of your undoubtedly hectic schedules, you can go back to what you were doing. And not a word of this meeting to anyone just yet! Understood?"

As the rest filed meekly out of the room, James transfigured two chairs for the remaining two.

"My gut feeling is that you're negotiating from a position of strength. Your letter needs to reflect that." Sam advised.

"But at the same time threatening language is a no-no. Force can be the subtext of the letter, but our response needs to be couched in diplomatic language. We need to imply that if given the opportunity you and Lestrange could be the very best of friends." Amelia furthered.

_Rodolphus,_

_My congratulations on your appointment as Minister of Magic. Becoming the youngest Minister of Magic by almost a decade is no mean feat. I have attached the signed emancipation proclamations, and kept signed copies for my own edification. I would like to extend an invitation, for both you and your wife, to attend my parent's funeral which is due to be held tomorrow at the Family Chapel beginning at 9am. Along the same vein, I expect you to have a word with the moronic auror's who have yet to release their bodies. I believe a transfer to the Centaur Liaison Office is in order._

_Our discussion about politics would best be left for another day. Feel free to contact Jessica Freedman, my secretary, to coordinate a mutually convenient time. Obviously, in light of recent events, my attendance at Hogwarts would have to be conditional on a number of factors. My presence at Wizengamot meetings could conceivably be reduced through the appointment of a proxy. However many of my business and House dealings will require my presence. Furthermore given the manifest inadequacies of Hogwarts security in recent years, my security detail is somewhat _

_concerned at the level of security currently offered by the school. But I'm sure these issues can be raised at the Hogwarts Board of Governors meeting two weeks from now._

_Wishing you a pleasant evening,_

_Lord James Potter_

_Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter_

When the final draft had been worked out, James looked at his two assistants, and felt completely emotionally and physically drained.

"Thank you for your help. I'll take this up to the owlery. I could do with the exercise" he stated.

James walked out of the library and begun the long trek up towards the attics of the Manor, where the owlery was located. He handed the letter to his father's eagle screech owl, a massive, imposing bird who hooted at him mournfully. Then he scribbled two letters to Sirius and Cissa inviting them to his parent's funeral, before handing them to two general post owls.

That particular chore of the way, he wandered down through the sombre Manor. He ended up standing outside the nursery. Softly opening the door, he wandered through the magnificent playroom and dining room to the bedrooms where his sisters slept. Laura and Georgiana, at the ages of one and three respectively were blissfully unaware of the changes that had rocked both their brother's world and the outside world. They lay, peacefully lost in pleasant dreams, unaware that the parents they had hardly ever seen had been killed. James' parents whilst somewhat dutiful towards their eldest son and heir felt no such obligations in regards to their daughters. They were content to leave the raising of the female children in the capable hands of the nanny and army of house-elf's.

As James sat and gazed at the children who he was now responsible for he reflected how they could hardly miss what they never had. Sinking down into the comfortable rocking chair, he dozed into a fitful sleep, secure in the knowledge that tomorrow was certain to be a very bad day.

xxxxxxxxoooooo

James rose with the dawn the next morning. Sitting, looking somewhat uncertain, next to him was his old nanny.

"Master James, I mean milord, Sir! I only ducked out from Lady Georgie's room for twenty minutes last night. I told the house-elfs and they were keeping a close ear out for her. .."

James broke into her ramblings there with a gentle smile "It's Ok. Can you arrange for the girls to be dressed in mourning robes? I think they should be present at the funeral. If you come and sit with us, in the front pew, there's at least a chance that they'll behave."

As he exited the nursery, a house-el f popped in and wordlessly handed him a cup of tea. He slowly made his way through the Manor, to his suite of rooms. A cold shower later, and he was getting dressed into brand new robes whilst trying to tame the mad bush that was his hair into some semblance of order.

Wandering down to the Grand Entrance of the House, it was easy to see the preparations that the huge household staff had scrambled to prepare for the wake. The furniture was gleaming, the portraits had all arranged their visages into mournful expressions, the suits of armour had been polished to within inches of their lives and the drawing rooms had been rearranged to support trays of food.

He stopped up off at the nursery along the way, to collect the children. Georgiana's entire face lit up when she saw her brother. She let go of her nanny's hand, threw propriety out the window, and flew into his arms. "James..." came the laughing voice, "you haven't been to see us in ages..."

"I know, it has been very bad of me has it not? Now you must tell me what you've been up to in the week or more since I last saw you..."

Nanny Williams paused in the middle of changing Laura's nappy to scold both her charges. "Lady Georgie, Master James you should both be ashamed of yourselves. You have a funeral to attend to in half an hour, your robes have been completely crumpled and neither of you look fit to be seen. I certainly raised the two of you better..."

Her voice trailed off in response to James' raised eyebrow. She slowly blushed and waved her wand over her two charges, restoring their robes to their former glory. James smiled affectionately at the women who in many ways had acted more like a mother than the women to whom he bestowed the title, grabbed his little sister's hand and led the nursery party down to the entrance.

The entrance to the Manor was more crowded than James had ever seen it. Staff were bustling everywhere, getting organised for the wake that would follow the funeral. The silence that accompanied the hundred or more people standing in the lobby was eerie. The only audible voice was that of Jessica Freedman, James' father's scarily efficient secretary.

James smiled at her as he descended down the staircase, into the extremely well-organised chaos below. "Lo Freedy. Have their...have their bodies arrived yet?"

The gruesome question caused all those in hearing range to momentarily freeze. She wordlessly nodded. "We've already put them into their coffins."

"Oh." After that there didn't seem to be much to say.

The funerals were to be held in the Family Chapel, located on the grounds of Wyndam, about a kilometre from the Manor. The Chapel had originally being built on the ruins of an earlier Church in the thirteenth century. During the Reformation era the Chapel had been converted from its original Catholic origins to the Anglican Church that was presently in use. The Chapel had been built along Gothic lines and resembled a Cathedral in miniature, with its grandiose stained glass windows and brilliantly polished furniture. Standing next door to the Chapel was the family cemetery, where centuries upon centuries of Potter's had been buried.

Standing there in the lobby, with Georgie holding on to his hand for dear life, James froze. He stood standing in the lobby, without saying anything, not knowing what he should do next.

In the end it was Freedy who saved him from his inertia. "It would be a good idea for you to begin walking to the Chapel now milord. The Service is due to start in half an hour."

So it was that James and Georgie begun the long, slow walk to the Chapel which was located about a kilometre away. They led a procession, with Nanny Williams and Laura following close behind. Then came the entire security detail, bar those on active patrol. It numbered about one hundred and twenty souls. Following on from the security personnel was the massive household staff.

When they reached the Chapel it became readily apparent that the funeral had attracted the Who's Who of British and European magical society. There were only three notable absences. His father's sister, his Aunt Katherine had sent her very insincere regrets from her Chateau in France. In addition his parent's very old friend and ally, Augusta Longbottom, and her son Frank Longbottom were not in attendance.

As a consequence, many of the attendees were conveying and expressing completely insincere sorrow over the Potter's passing. Such is the nature of politics. But at the same time many of the attendees genuinely mourned the Potter's passing and the breakdown in law and order that had precipitated it.

The Family Chapel was relatively small, and could only hold about three hundred souls. Entrance was strictly by invitation only. Consequently, in a warped example of the worst of human nature, competition to get into the Potter's funeral had been fierce. An invitation was considered to be a confirmation that you'd made it into the elite of European Magical society. Only the absolute top advisors to the Potter's attended from the House.

The remainder of the House, numbering a good twenty thousand, stood outside the Church heads bowed. The funeral would be broadcasted, through the use of the broadcasting charms, simultaneously as the Service progressed inside the Chapel.

James and Georgie, acknowledging the crowd with a nod of the head, swept into the packed Chapel. The Reverend took their sitting down to be a signal to start the service. As he motioned for the Congregation to rise, the familiar strains of 'Abide with me' filled the Chapel. The Funeral was perhaps noticeable for the composure of the Congregation. The only uncontrollable sobbing came from Laura, half way through the Service, when the baby woke up from her sleep and decided that she needed something to eat. James, sitting in silent reflection, made a silent vow then and there that he would not leave this world with no one to truly mourn him.

The end of the Service led to the traditional removal of the Potter's bodies to the cemetery. Twelve members of the Security Detail, dressed in full regimental robes, picked up the caskets and marching in perfect unison carried them out of the Church. James, Georgie and Laura followed the coffin out the door with the Reverend. The Congregation followed.

What had begun as a fine summer day was rapidly going sour. A bone-chilling Southerly wind had picked up and the sun had disappeared behind black clouds. Despite the huge crowd that had gathered there was little noise. The pall-bearers boots crunched on the gravel as they carried the coffins in a path through the crowd to the cemetery. Men, women and children removed their hats and made the sign of the crucifix.

When they reached the newly dug graves, Dorcas Meadows, as per tradition lifted her wand and lowered the coffins into the ground. The Reverend then began the familiar final prayer:

"In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother Lord Marcus Potter and sister Lady Elizabeth Potter and we commit their bodies to the ground; earth to earth; ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless them and keep them, the Lord make his face shine upon them and be gracious unto them and give them peace. Amen."

James and Laura both picked up a handful of dirt and through sprinkling it on the grave said their final goodbye's to their parents.

After of few moments of sombre reflection, James keeping a tight grip on Laura's hand, walked over and thanked the Reverend for performing the Service.

Then he turned and faced the pack of hyena's, waiting to dissect his every action, thought and facial expression.

He slowly made his way through the graveyard, pausing now and then to greet people he was personally acquainted with.

Rodolphus and Bella Lestrange were standing at the very back of the crowd, surrounded by a Court of fawning sycophants. Cissa was standing slightly off to one side, her face set into a stony expression of neutrality.

With about twenty people standing between the two groups, offering their condolences, James let go of Georgie's hand and pushed her towards Nanny Williams.

He walked towards the Lestranges'.

"James" came Rodolphus'pleasant drawl. His face was set in a carefully schooled mien of compassionate sombreness. His wife was not so adept at hiding her emotions and was wearing a not so-subtle expression of glee which starkly contrasted with the sombreness of the occasion. James set his face into a carefully neutral expression.

"Rodolphus. My congratulations on your recent promotion" James replied.

"I am only sorry that we meet in such tragic circumstances."

"Quite" James dryly replied.

"We have much to discuss. But not today. Today is a day for the past. Once again my condolences, Sir."

A/N Thank you for reading my first fanfic!

This was a hard intermediary chapter to get out. I have a much clearer vision of where this fic is going once it gets to Hogwarts. Also sentiment is one of the hardest things to get down on paper without seeming twee. I'm not entirely sure I succeeded with this chapter, but since the main aim was to get it over and done with as quickly as possible...

The poem is a translation from Martin Niemoeller, a Holocaust survivor. Obviously I added the wizarding references to the quote.

I'm still in rather desperate need of a Beta... so if you're interested I'd love to hear from you.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer; The universe and all characters are borrowed from J.K Rowling's Harry Potter series. The somewhat bizarre twists are all mine...

Up is Down, Chapter 3

There was smoke and fire everywhere. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air. The screams of those in severe pain and of the dying sent shivers down the spines of all those still alive to listen. Bloody body parts were piled everywhere, whilst the gutters ran with blood. The hordes of the invading army had finally broken down the gates of Wyndam.

A gruesome parade was snaking its way down the main street, from the direction of the Manor. A nameless flunkey, face covered by a black hood, was dangling Laura face down from her ankles. Georgie was being dragged down the street in chains, sobbing hysterically. The crowd watching consisted solely of black hooded men who jeered at the sight. Muffled sobs could be heard from those unfortunates still alive in the shops in the once prosperous village.

James sat bolt upright in his bed, breathing heavily, with beads of sweat dripping down his face. Nightmares were a new phenomena for James, who was not the type of person to dream, or at least to remember what he dreamed. But ever since his parents died, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon his shoulders, his sleep had become disturbed and an uninterrupted night's sleep had become a rarity.

James looked at the ornate seventeenth century gold-plated mantelpiece clock by the bed and sighed. It was only three-thirty. James' mind was racing, but every muscle in his body was proclaiming its extreme tiredness by aching. Attempting to forge a compromise between his exhausted body and overstimulated mind James decided to draw a bath. Sitting on the steps of a bath which was the size of an average sized back-yard swimming pool and was heated to a temperature just below scalding had the desirous, relaxing effect. James fell asleep in minutes, his head supported by the wall.

Waking up the next morning, James' first thought was that it was freezing. His second thought was to thank Merlin for the combination of heating charms and house-elves that had kept the water in the bath warm throughout the night, as he sank his icy-cold upper body into the bath. His third thought was to blink blearily at the blob that was floating four feet above the water about five meters in front of him. His fifth thought was to grab his glasses, which were resting on the sandstone side of the bath, and rapidly put them on.

"Blinky! What in god's name are you doing?"

"Making sure Young Master doesn't drown. Sleeping is for beds not for baths, but since Young Master seems to forget this, us house-elf's have had to make sure Young Master didn't drown" came the house-elf's scolding response.

"Now Young Master what would you be wanting for breakfast?"

James meekly put in his breakfast order.

Chuckling he leaned against the wall, only to suddenly sit up again as the events of the last few weeks came rushing back to him in a single moment of devastating clarity. The smile died on his face, only to be replaced by an expression of bleak despair and grief. The few moments each day where James was caught between sleeping and being awake were rapidly becoming his favourite time of the day. Those few moments, caused by a sleep induced haze, were the only time that he was able to _forget._ To forget his responsibilities, his parents, his friends, the state of His world, his compromises...To forget.

James was too closely watched to be able to drown his sorrows in alcohol or hallucinogenic drugs. So instead he cradled and treasured the precious few moments each day where his mind could finally relax and where he felt truly safe. But those few moments were all too far and few between.

Today, like all days recently, could not by any stretch of the imagination be called a good day. The morning would begin with a visit to Gringott's to finalise the transference of his inheritance, continue on to the Greek island of Scyros where James would meet Rodolphus Lestrange on neutral ground and finish with a meeting of the managing directors of James' ten major companies.

James reluctantly pulled himself out of the bath, got dressed into the imperious formal robes that befitted one in his position, tamed his hair and begun to read the hundreds of briefing documents arranged on his breakfast table.

He was still attempting to draw the paperwork department down to manageable levels two hours later, when Mr. Forbes and Freedy let themselves into the room.

"Good morning, milord. Now just let me know what these piles mean... which have you signed, which need further consideration, which have you yet to view?" Freedy, being the irresistible force of nature that she was, was unable to resist the challenge that James' unorganised self represented.

With the sheepish smile that all fourteen year old boys seem to have perfected James was forced to admit "I'm afraid I filed them somewhat haphazardly Freedy."

In response to her upturned eyebrow, in a somewhat hesitant voice he continued "they're all mixed together?"

Her answering groan conveyed exactly what she thought of his filing skills.

The brief moment of levity was ended when the ever grave Sam Forbes cleared his throat significantly.

"Milord...we need to go over some of the etiquette that will be vital for the meeting with the Goblins today..."

xxxxxxxxxxooooooooooo

Diagon Alley was more subdued than James had ever seen it. The entire place pulsed with an almost hysterical undercurrent, whilst the inhabitants of Knockturn Ally had taken the opportunity to skulk out of the shadows. Britain's underclass, after decades of being suppressed, had burst to the surface and if the looks of disgusted contempt were anything to go by, few were happy about it. Hags milled around in groups cackling, whilst one of the most feared men in Britain stood standing in broad daylight. Brutus Greyback was infamous for the young wizarding boys he stalked, kidnapped and then either slaughtered or turned under the light of the full moon. Shadowy figures in cloaks stood in the crannies between shops hawking everything from muggle fingers, to the ministry-prohibited dragon's blood. Many of the shopkeepers had neglected to open their shops, whilst the Death Eater guards stood sneering at the scenes being played out in front of them.

James and his twenty strong security detail swept through the Alley, not pausing to acknowledge or greet anyone along the way. The foolish Death Eater minion who attempted to inhibit the movement of the party was, with one flick of the wand, blasted fifty feet into the air before landing with a sickening crunch on the harsh cobblestones outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. There was a brief, stunned silence as everyone on the Alley paused to stare at the party who had been so abominably foolish as to engage one of You-Know-Who's _Death Easter's_...before a thousand yard glare from Dorcas Meadows convinced all those who witnessed it that it would be in their best interests to carry on as though nothing untoward had occurred.

The two Goblin guards posted at Gringott's entrance snapped to attention when the party came into sight but did not deny them entrance. Bypassing the snaking lines of clientele waiting to endure the goblins sadistic security checks, James smoothly went through the VIP door which had wards that were already keyed into his magical signature. His security detail followed, but was detained for a few moments whilst a specially briefed group of security goblins ensured that they did not have any bank robbing items on their persons.

The VIP door did not lead into the main counting Hall of Gringott's, but rather to a richly carpeted lounge room filled with priceless antiques and artworks. James having been on bank business with his parents many times before was well aware of the protocol and sat down on one of the luxurious satin sofa's provided for his comfort. The moment he did so a Goblin came hurrying out.

"Lord Potter. Gringott's is honoured by your custom. Director Rangkok will be with you momentarily, but in the mean time can I get you something to eat or drink?"

"Tea, thank you" came the aloof request.

The requested tea arrived thirty seconds later, served on a seventeenth century Wedgewood tea service with all the normal condiments. Dorcas Meadows, who had by that time cleared the security checks, did a series of spells to ensure that the tea had not been tampered with in any way. Once she was finished James begun to sip the steaming tea, using the drink to calm his fraying nerves.

A few moments later, the Director of Gringott's London Branch, Rangkok came stalking into the room. As he was followed by a good thirty goblin minions the large room suddenly begun to feel much smaller.

"Lord Potter. We have much to discuss, our time is very valuable, and I don't know about you but I'm already running three hours behind schedule. Let us skip the formalities and get right down to business. Come!" with that the Goblin abruptly turned around and began to walk out the door.

Hearing the scraping of chairs, as everyone in the room scrambled to follow him, the goblin paused and pivoted around and roared "We are about to discuss privileged financial information... how could any of you nincompoops dare to presume that I included you in my invitation to Lord Potter?

Skaddrock! I'll need a secretary. As for the rest of you time is money! So why are you standing around looking lazy, shaming this proud institution? Get going!"

James silently looked at his flabbergasted security detail, before motioning to Dorcas Meadows to follow him, indicating to the rest that they should stay where they were.

They bustled into a richly furnished conference room which was dominated by a massive mahogany table which was large enough to accommodate a couple of hundred beings around its surface. Rangkok plonked himself at the end of the table, where boxes labelled 'the Potter account' were waiting neatly stacked, and indicated that James should sit.

"We live in dangerous times, your lordship. The goblin nation was saddened by your parents passing. But now it is time for a new generation to take control. So on to business! We will just need for you to sign here, there, here, there again, here, here and here in order to fully transfer ownership of all their vaults into your name. We were also wandering if you would like to put in place some emergency provisions? In case you were unable to access your accounts for months? Or even a period of years?"

James wryly looked at the wily old goblin sitting to the left of him, choosing not to be offended by the blatant fishing expedition. He debated the pluses and minuses of throwing the goblins a bone and ultimately decided that the good will generated would be worth it, especially given the fact that any truce he negotiated with Rodolphus Lestrange would rapidly become public knowledge regardless.

He chose his words carefully "I do not anticipate that I will be cut off from Gringott's for any great length of time. But perhaps you are right, we should be prepared for every eventuality... especially given the times that we live in. With that in mind I would like you set up my accounts so that I can access up to five hundred thousand galleons a day from any overseas branch of Gringott's, up to ten thousand galleons from my money pouch and so that the automatic payments from vault 83 pertaining to House matters will flow in perpetuity unless I expressly state otherwise."

Rangkok nodded, whilst Skaddrock scribbled, thinking carefully before responding "Gringott's is delighted about the course of action you are currently set upon. Whilst we goblins do not concern ourselves with wizard affairs, we were uneasy about the havoc that a civil war between the Ministry and the House of Potter would wreak upon the wizarding economy. Your present actions are wise; they will safeguard the Wizarding economy, ensure your safety and ultimately will give you the best returns. A word of advice, Lord Potter, revenge is a dish best served cold. Strike when your enemies least expect it. In the meantime, I must be off, as time is money. May your vaults overflow with gold."

"May your power bring you prosperity" James replied formerly, using the tradition goblin saying.

His meeting with the goblins concluded, James walked into the VIP lounge room and portkeyed to his next destination, the island of Scyros in Greece.

He arrived with atypical grace, landing upright, a happy fluke which gave him confidence as he came forward to greet Rodolphus Lestrange.

They had arranged to meet in the Temple of Ares, a magical dead zone that extended for two kilometres in all directions. The irony of peace negotiations being conducted in a temple dedicated to the God of War was not lost upon James as he took in his hallowed surroundings. The temple had long been a favoured negotiating spot, as the only magic allowed within two kilometres was transportation magic's. A curse said to have been engineered by the gods ensured that anyone who broke the fragile truce that surrounded any of the negotiations would suffer consequences threefold of that which they had bestowed.

Leopold Ferdinand had stabbed Reginald Foucault, a man he was supposed to be negotiating with in 1586. Three days later when the unimaginable pain finally subsided, he died from thousands of stab wounds that suddenly appeared all over his body. Reginald Foucault had been stabbed with a knife coated in an incurable poison by the name of _madulas nightshade_ . Thirty minutes after being stabbed, he woke up, still on the temple grounds. To this day Reginald Foucault goes down in history as the only person to have ever survived imbibing that particularly toxic strain of nightshade. Gideon Sazargsky was another infamous victim of the temple's curse in 1765. Gideon thought to get around the curse by slipping his opposing number with a portkey which transported him to Gideon's personal dungeons. He may have had some justifiable cause, James Rogue was believed by many history books to have seduced Gideon's sister. But the Temple of Ares does not judge those who enter its hallowed halls. Rather it strictly enforces rules of its own devising. Gideon died of a heart attack after suffering through four days of hideous, unrelenting pain. Rogue was unable to be harmed whilst in Sazargsky's dudgeons and was eventually left to walk free.

James felt the formidable weight of history on his shoulders, as he returned the snake like smile of Rodolphus Lestrange.

"James... you don't mind if I call you that do you? You're early! What a pleasant surprise...I was just taking this unexpected boon in my schedule to plough through some paperwork" Rodolphus' smoothly condescending voice drawled.

James looked down, and sure enough on a transfigured table was a small mountain of paperwork. Standing behind Rodolphus was an army of lackey's, which might have been intimidating if James hadn't thought ahead and consequentially brought an entourage of twenty members of his security detail.

"I'm glad you're here Rodolphus...I was fortunate that my previous meeting with Gringott's ran ahead of schedule...and since we're both here now would be an opportune moment to get down to business" James replied, managing to keep his tone coolly detached.

Rodolphus smirked, raised an eyebrow, and silently signalled with one hand for the army of lackey's to move to the other end of the hall. "Perhaps a little privacy is in order..."

James sighed and inclined his head towards his security detail. Dorcas hesitated for a moment, only moving when James, with a bark which sounded like a gunshot, ordered "Go!"

James conjured a comfortably squishy armchair out of thin air.

Rodolphus smiled "A word of friendly advice. You just violated the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery in front of the Minister of Magic. Handing a political opponent prime blackmail material is not wise."

James smirked in response "You are the one that sent and processed my emancipation edicts. I would have thought you would have remembered the section that released me from that particular decree."

James had the pleasure of seeing Rodolphus momentarily blanch, before regaining his mask of composure.

"Be that as it may, there are more important things at stake here. I do not come here representing the ministry. I come here representing my Master, the Dark Lord. He wanted me to sound you out for your political...perspectives". It was perhaps the most forthright speech that James had ever heard from the man who had expertly made a living out of obfuscating and manipulating the truth.

It momentarily threw him off balance. After a pregnant pause he opted to reply with caution. "I tend to take a live and let live attitude. We're both aware that a Civil War between my forces and your forces would essentially lead to mutually assured destruction. I'm not sure that any of us would want to win what would be left of Wizarding Britain following an all out War between our forces. Thus I would be open to certain... compromises... in order to keep the peace"

Rodolphus took a deep breath "The Dark Lord is aware that the House of Potter is one of the oldest continuous magical families in Britain and would be saddened to have to destroy it. It would not be an auspicious start to the new world order we have fought so hard to establish. Thus we too are open to certain", he paused for a moment before spitting out, "accommodations in order to bring about the Dark Lord's glorious vision."

James looking at Rodlophus' gleaming eyes and fanatical smile was rather forcibly reminded of one of Lily Evans favourite sayings when the Gryffindor common room became quidditch obsessed. The muggleborn red-head when teased about her complete and utter lack of interest in the game tended to reply with the witticism "Your all fanatics- that is people who can't change their minds and won't change the subject". He grimly attempted to banish the muggleborn from his thoughts, all too aware of the consequences that this meeting would have for her.

He sighed and begun the inevitable. "Perhaps we should discuss terms?"

Rodolphus grinned in that manic way of his and begun to speak "To begin with you would have to agree to uphold the Rule of Law. That would mean sealing the Welsh border from certain undesirable members of society, ensuring that Ministry laws were upheld in your lands, not interfering with the Dark Lord's attempts to implement his glorious vision on England and not allowing any members of your House to interfere with His justice..."

James interrupted him "I presume that in return He will guarantee Wales autonomy, not seek to interfere with how we organise ourselves, keep his officials and ministry officials away from my lands, allow my business interests to operate with impunity, guarantee my safety and the safety of members of my House..."

"Potter let's stop dancing around the real issue here. The Dark Lord wants your word that you will act in a matter becoming to your status as a pureblood. That means not protecting any mudbloods behind those walls of yours, keeping half-bloods in their rightful place, and not allowing members of your House to use Wales as a staging post to rescue unworthy members of our society. In return he is prepared to allow you to retain the position of enormous privilege that you currently enjoy in our society and to guarantee your personal safety."

James smiled thinly "I am prepared to accept those terms. I need to make one thing abundantly clear however. I have no intention of joining the Death Eater's- I infinitely prefer to keep my hands clean."

The sick feeling in his stomach increased when Rodolphus dryly chuckled as though James had amused him.

"I have a pre-authorised vow that I am prepared to offer you here and now on behalf of my master. Any changes will need to be cleared with him first." With those words Rodolphus slid a piece of parchment across the table to James.

James intently looked at the parchment, suddenly enormously grateful for all those hours of tuition his solicitor Samuel Forbes had given him on the construction of magical oaths. In it he had learned how proxies, people who had sworn their life and magic to a master, could actually stand as substitutes for their masters in unbreakable vows.

_I Rodolphus Lestrange, a vassal of my Lord Master Lord Voldermort, have been expressly ordered to contract with Lord James Potter. I do thus swear on my life and magic, as my Master swears on his life and magic that Lord James Potter's personal safety, and the safety of his family, will be guaranteed by Lord Voldermort and his Death Eaters, provided that the terms of this contract are carried out. Expressly provided the terms of this contract are fulfilled Lord Voldermort will not harm, imprison or seek to kill Lord James Potter and his family either personally or through proxies. Furthermore Wales will be granted semi-autonomy both from Lord Voldermort's rule and the Ministry of Magic._

_In return I Lord James Potter do thus swear on my life and magic that I will recognise the legitimacy of Lord Voldermort's reign over Britain (excluding my Welsh lands) for as long as he shall remain living. I further swear that I will seek permission from the Ministry of Magic before allowing any magical being who is not a member of my House to cross the borders of Wales. _

When he finished reading the terms of the contract he realised grimly that the terms of the contract were almost absurdly weighted in his favour. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion he looked at Rodolphus for one long moment.

"Before I contract this; I will need an unbreakable vow from you regarding the veracity of your position to barter for...Him."

Rodolphus raised an eyebrow in astonishment, before acquiescing to the request. A beckon to Dorcas Meadows brought her running.

James' instructions were crisp, quick and to the point. "I need you to act as a Binder." She nodded and drew her wand, which after a few moments begun to shine a blue light.

James begun the traditional pro-forma to unbreakable vows "Do you Rodolphus Lestrange solemnly swear on both your Life and Magic that you have sworn your loyalty, life and magic to the service of Lord Voldermort?"

"I do."

"Furthermore do you swear that when you swore your loyalty, life and magic to the service of Lord Voldermort you did so using the name of Lord Voldermort?"

"I do."

That massive loophole closed, Rodolphus was now looking at James with something approaching respect.

James suddenly wanting to get this somewhat horrific day over with as quickly as possible wordlessly went and got the parchment, copied it and offered the original to Rodolphus. He then motioned to Dorcas to act as binder again. She pulled out her wand and cast the spell that would bind both men to their vows.

Rodolphus went first, his seductively attractive voice lending gravitas to the weighty vow "I Rodolphus Lestrange, a vassal of my Lord Master Lord Voldermort..."

A blue light flashed, indicating that the very fabric of magic had heard Rodolphus' and by extension Lord Voldermort's vow.

And then it was James' turn. His mouth turning to ash, he forced himself to begin the vow "In return I Lord James Potter do thus swear on my life and magic..."

The blue light that flashed at the end of his vow encompassed the vast Hall in which they were standing. The two security details standing at opposite ends of the Temple, perhaps realising that they were standing on the fringe of History and recognising the enormity of what had just occurred begun to somewhat hesitantly clap.

"Well Lord Potter. I have many other things that I must see to today. Your letters will reach me should you need to contact me. As a courtesy I feel that I should let you know that Lord Voldermort does not wish for me to summon the Wizengamot till mid-September. Arrangements will be made so that you can attend from Hogwarts. Due to your state of deep-mourning I do not expect to see you at many social events this summer. If that is indeed the case, I will see you then."

A curt nod was his only response. With that both men, swept to their respective ends of the Hall and portkeyed back to Britain.

James was portkeyed straight back into his father's study, where a welcoming committee of Samuel, Amelia, John and Elizabeth waited. The members of his security detail, bar Dorcas took the earliest possible opportunity to excuse themselves.

James collapsed into his father's leather chair; put his head in his hands, and when a few moments later the enormity of what he had just committed himself to hit him ran into the adjacent bathroom and chucked his guts up.

The adults in the room sat in stunned silence fearing the worst, whilst simultaneously being reassured by Dorcas' calm demeanour.

James remained in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, before he was finally composed enough to come out and face the music.

He silently took his still foreign place in the leather seat that he would forever associate with his father and copied the parchment which contained the vow, before zooming it to all those present.

Closely watching their expressions, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the looks of relief and joy that followed their completion of reading the contract. He hadn't screwed up and left a gaping hole in the contract. Samuel Forbes beam of approval was particularly gratifying.

He slowly pressed a button that would bring Jess, his secretary, running. She came in seconds.

He pre-empted her questions by stating "I need to make the following announcement to the House. Can you ensure that everybody gets a copy? You will need to start dictating now...

My fellow members of the House of Potter. The last few months have been tumultuous. We have seen an old world order fall in the Ministry of Magic and a new force in politics rise. We have mourned two great leaders following the untimely deaths of my parents. In order to ensure our continued prosperity and security in these drastically altered times we too need to change. Certain values must be compromised; some sacrifices will need to be made for the greater good of this House.

Today I signed a truce with the Dark Lord. Wales will retain its autonomy, we will retain our property and ensure our safety if the following are followed:

No muggleborns are permitted to remain in Wales.

Any non-member of the House will have to seek permission before being permitted into the grounds. A House office will be established immediately to ensure expediency in these matters.

All marriages between a member of this House and an outsider will need to be approved.

All members of the House are henceforth banned from belonging to any organisation dedicated to resisting the Ministry of Magic, Death Eater's or the Dark Lord or any combination of the above.

All members of the House are henceforth banned in engaging in protests against any of the above organisations.

All members of the House are required to acknowledge the legitimacy of the current Ministry of Magic.

No member of the House shall attempt to subvert the laws of the Ministry of Magic.

As a House we must band together to prevent the destruction of all that we hold dear. Thank you, good night, and God Bless,

Lord James Potter."

With that mass-House Order the childhood of Lord James Potter officially came to an end.

Slipping out of the room, he headed towards the nursery, where he sat gazing at his sister's sleeping forms trying to convince himself that he had done the closest thing to the 'right' thing that he could manage.

A/N

Well I used a plot device that I swore I never would... and it was all but a dream... forgive me? Next chapter we're back to Hogwarts and back on familiar ground. The conversation with Rodolphus was difficult to write...probably why I've been putting it off for so long! Three guesses as to who Lily was paraphrasing.


End file.
